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“Of course I won’t.” She said the words automatically, not sure what Jayne thought she sought. Thankfully, Jayne didn’t ask, because Sybil couldn’t have answered honestly. Nor could she stop her errant heart from seeing Brand as the answer to the question. Brand riding a rank horse. Brand, his leg hurt, but revealing no pain. Brand building a swing to remind her of the sweetness of time with Suzette. Brand with his injured dog cradled gently in his arms. Brand sewing up the same dog, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to do something very difficult.
“I think he’s a man a person could count on.” Jayne patted Sybil’s arm and returned her attention to arranging her flowers.
She had voiced the very thing Sybil knew was impossible. The only thing she could count on from Brand was that he’d leave.
She took her time finishing her own flower display. Rearranged it several times even after she was satisfied. Fussed with a dry leaf, all the while knowing she did it to keep from hurrying back to the barn to check on Dawg. And Brand.
* * *
She wouldn’t return. It was best if she didn’t. But every time the door opened or the floor squeaked, Brand jerked his head up. Eddie came by twice. Slim brought Brand a cup of coffee and plate of food from the cookhouse. A couple other cowboys he didn’t recall the names of stopped at the gate and grunted when Dawg growled at them.
Brand waited until they left to scold Dawg. “You gotta stop scaring everyone away.” Guess it was Brand’s fault the dog did so. He’d kind of encouraged it. Made it easier to move on if he kept everyone ten feet away.
The door opened and he knew it was Sybil even before Dawg whined in anticipation. Brand’s heart took off in a wild leap, like a horse bucking. His nerves tingled. All because her quiet entrance informed him of her presence.
In the few seconds it took for her to reach the pen, he gave himself a serious scolding. Letting anyone get close to him put them in jeopardy. He would disappear into the wilds before he brought any danger to Miss Sybil. He needed to—
But before he could decide what it was he ought to do, Sybil cracked open the gate and stepped inside.
“How’s he doing?” She nodded toward Dawg.
Dawg opened his eyes, but didn’t lift his head.
Sybil sank down at the dog’s side. “Cookie gave me some beef broth. It will give Dawg strength.” She gently lifted his head and held the tin bowl to his muzzle.
Dawg whined a protest.
“Come on, try it. You’ll like it. It will help you.”
Brand figured Dawg lapped at the liquid simply to please Sybil. But four laps was all he managed.
Sybil lowered his head. “Good boy.” She stroked him. “You’re doing just fine.” She leaned back against the wall next to Brand, where he sat with his knees drawn up. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” He almost jolted at her question. “I’m not the one hurt.”
“But he’s your dog. I know how fond you are of him.”
“He’ll survive.”
“You’re right. He’s tough.”
Brand chuckled, though he felt no mirth. “He’s mean. Too mean to die.”
She patted his hand where he pressed it to his knee. “You’re talking like that because it hurts to think of him injured.”
Brand stiffened. Did she have any idea how her touch flooded his insides with warmth and something sweet as honey on fresh bread? But he must resist such notions. “Says who?”
She squeezed his hand, an action that likewise squeezed his heart until he grew light-headed. “If you didn’t care you wouldn’t have come back and sewed him up yourself.”
“A man has to take care of his beasts.” No way would he admit to deeper feelings. He was Brand. A nameless, homeless cowboy who never showed a speck of emotion. He must maintain the illusion.
She laughed, the sound dancing through him. “You’re more than you want people to see.”
The truth of her words melted his resolve. How he longed to be more than he could allow. But it was impossible. Nothing would change the fact he was a Duggan.
Female voices came down the aisle.
Sybil glanced up. “That’s Jayne and Mercy.”
